The Dangerous Game
by AJJG
Summary: Tino and Emil have been friends for years now, and both are in steady relationships - but when Emil begins acting out of the ordinary, Tino has no idea what the Icelander has in store for him. Human AU, PsychologicallyMessedUp!Nations, Yaoi/BL and violence within. You have been warned.


_A/N: Well, this is my first Hetalia fanfiction! Firstly a warning: those hoping for fluff and general Hetalia antics, re-read the summary and seriously reconsider. Things are going to begin bloody, and remain bloody throughout – I'm not going to hide that fact (read the first paragraphs and you'll understand)._

_Anyway, I was originally going to do a lovely fluffy one-shot full of SuFin, but I came to a conclusion: writing horror is more my thing (but there's still pairings and a little bit of romance), and I think I'm ready to tackle something a little longer, so here it goes! (I'm still learning… so constructive criticism is much appreciated!)_

_One final time, I reiterate: WARNING – Human/High School AU, blood/gore, Yaoi/BL (there will be some unusual pairings, so keep an open mind please), PsychologicallyMessedUp!Nations and extremely Angsty/Depressing moments. Rated M for a reason, y'know?_

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**Prologue**

With a final scream, I plunge the knife directly into the older man's heart, a generous spurt of blood flying from the wound, further coating my (once) blue sweater. He's stopped – just… stopped. His face relaxes, his chest stopping its previous heaving as I withdraw the large blade and drop it onto the floor with a dull thud.

I stand and observe exactly what I've done. He looks even more twisted than before – and that's saying something. His eyes – now faded to a dull glassiness as life has left him – stare blankly at the ceiling of the small, claustrophobic room. His body has stopped struggling against the bindings holding him down on what once was a pool table, now a site of a brutal, impulsive act of murder, his wrists bruised from all of the struggling he's done. Cuts and bruises line his bare arms and legs, a blurry mix of blue, black and crimson.

Blood is everywhere. All four walls – and even a little bit of the ceiling – has been dyed crimson by my antics. I wipe my moist forehead with my hand – not doing much good, considering the blood reaches from the tips of my fingers to my armpits. From behind me, there is a quiet yet forceful clearing of the throat – I turn to face Emil, who, if anything looks slightly shocked. His expression moves back to one of neutrality as he starts to speak:

"Tino… are you done?" Perfect stoicism. Typical for him – but there's something behind the hardened gaze he fixes me with, a glimmer of something in his eyes. Satisfaction perhaps? I remember with slight embarrassment that he's waiting for an answer, so I give a quick nod of my head. His mouth shifts slightly from a tiny, straight line into one that resembles a smirk.

"And, how did that feel?" Honestly, I'm caught off guard by the question; I lower my head as I process the last few minutes in my head. Was that all it had been? In just a few minutes, I had robbed another human being of their life… and it felt… exhilarating. My eyes widen at the sudden conclusion. Wasn't I meant to feel some sort of guilt? Anything resembling remorse? And yet, even as these thoughts enter my head, I begin to feel them melt away into the increasing thrill- What the hell is wrong with me?

I look back up at Emil, to find that his hardened stare has softened, and his smirk has become a slightly wider – but still conservative – smile. He must have been observing my internal struggle – measuring my reaction to his blunt question, and come to the same conclusion as I. Something else has crept into his eyes, a hint of desire? My assumption is all but confirmed as he sticks his hand out. I know I should pull away. I know that what I've just done – what he's watched me do – is utterly, completely WRONG. I should shove him to the ground, run as far and fast as my curvaceous little legs will take me and apologise to whatever god(s) are listening, but instead I take his hand before his reaches mine, the rising heat in my body taking over, and follow him from the room – taking a final glance back at the mess of black, blue and red left in my wake as the door closes behind us.

Emil gingerly leads me by the hand through his and his brothers' modestly sized home, taking no mind of the blood caking our bodies and no doubt leaving stains on the tiled floor as we move towards the stairs, stopping at the first floor and entering the nearest door; his bedroom.

Closing the door behind me, he turns and has me lying on the bed, and his lips crash into mine, before I can even utter a syllable of protest. Fast as a flash of light, thoughts race through my mind; _I'm already in a relationship with Su-san! I can't be doing this – it's just not right. Then again, killing someone isn't exactly on the list of acceptable behaviour for sixteen year old Finns, is it?_ And something's changed inside me – something deep down and primal has been triggered, and, going by the heat in the lower half of my body, I'm enjoying what's happening.

Yeah – I am. I raise a hand to the back of the Icelander's head above mine, bringing him down completely on top of me – bodies hot against each other's – to deepen the kiss, beckoning him to explore deeper.

As fast as the kiss began, it's over; Emil breaks the two of us apart, supporting hands at either side of my head, holding his face just a few inches from my own, heat creeping into my pale cheeks and something else – arousal – making its way into my brain, slightly disappointed at the short time the kiss lasted- wait a second – disappointed? Aroused? When had that happened? In the years I'd known him, I had never, ever felt any sort of attraction towards Emil – let alone that kind of attraction. Sure, we'd been friends; but I'd never felt anything deeper.

Nevertheless, here we were; he'd kissed me, I'd reciprocated and, judging by the heat in my lower half, and the something pressing against my thigh, we're equally aroused. He locks his violet – yet slightly pinkish – orbs onto my own, intense, scanning my reaction for any kind of doubt. Despite what we'd just done, where this would probably go next, weighed against the fact that I'm in a steady relationship, and have been for months – how and why do I keep forgetting that? – I stare straight back, welcoming whatever is next.

Once again satisfied, Emil pushes away from me, standing up, pulling me after him when I become confused for the briefest of seconds. He pulls me by the hand again, leaving a large red stain on his white bed sheets (though he doesn't seem to care in the least). The next onslaught of sloppy kissing starts as soon as we're through the door at the other end of Emil's room – to his bathroom.

Contact is broken for a fleeting moment while he tears my sweater off over my head – I reciprocate, hungrily delving into another kiss as I undo his button-up white (well, red now) shirt and sliding it off his shoulders. Within seconds, the shower is on – pumping out steaming hot water, instantly making the room feel hot and hazy – and the rest of our clothes are off, left around the door in lazy piles.

We step into the low-set tub in unison, not even bothering with the curtain – what difference did it make anyway? The blood from our clothes and bodies had already dirtied the floor – if anything, the water would do it good.

The two of us stand beneath the steady stream of water, the caked blood in our hair and on our shoulders gently crumbling away and creating paths of red down our bodies as we remain interlocked, holding the other tight, tongues exploring what had previously been forbidden – not even on the table of reason and sanity. I shiver from spine to crown as I feel something brush my erection, and suddenly, I want more.

My hands begin to explore the younger by mere months' body, moving from rubbing circles of pressure into his back to feeling out his chest – earning myself a squeeze to the bottom as I grazed a nipple with my thumb – and then his thighs, taking in their very slight curve – much more subtle than mine – before moving onto his lower back and settling there, as the wrestling match our tongues are having becomes more ferocious and passionate.

Groaning from the deepest reaches of my throat, I hungrily move my left hand down, to a region of his body I'd not dared venture to before, holding him and beginning to move, back and forth, until I've settled into a normal rhythm. I increase my speed as Emil makes a sound of encouragement, before mirroring my action. As I near the edge, my mind once again drifts back to the implications of my actions. I've cheated on my first love, completely altered my relationship with one of my first and only friends, and I've killed a man.

But that doesn't matter to me. Any semblance of caring I had has been completely drained away, replaced only by a need I didn't even know existed until now. What's happening to me?

I reach climax – crying out in a mixture of shock and pleasure – as he does; his reaction similar but less extreme than mine. My knees weakened by the waves of pleasure coursing from my smallest toe to my brain, I lower myself to the bottom of the tub, Emil doing the same, and lie against one of the low walls, the Icelander lying against the opposite side, staring into my eyes. The floor of the tub is still covered in a layer of blood, not quite all washed down the drain; we look like we've just stumbled out of a B-horror movie into one of those comics I keep catching Elizabeta reading in class, but neither of us cares.

We simultaneously reach out and pull into a less passionate, but still pleasurable, kiss, weaving our fingers into each other's sopping wet, snowy hair, leaning back as we run out of breath after a few mere seconds.

As I lie there, trying to regain my breath, my mind begins to drift back to those thoughts. What I'd just done, what would happen next and, most importantly, how I got here in the first place.

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_A/N: Well, there it is – hopefully interesting enough to make a good story out of. Interesting (maybe) side-note: this prologue is the mutant baby of a much larger story I was originally writing, before I decided I had bitten off much more than I could chew and trimmed it down, meaning that the story doesn't quite have a set-in-stone plot yet (but I do have a very good idea of where this is going). _

_That was my first time writing that kind of scene, so how was it? Awkward? Rushed? Maybe slightly OK? Any constructive criticism is welcomed with open arms! And if it's confusing right now, it'll make bucket loads more sense down the line. This is also my first time writing Finland(/Tino) – murder, sudden sex with Iceland(/Emil): OOC I know, but it'll make sense in context later. _

_I also come bearing warnings:_

_Warning the first: because of impending exams (one month exactly from today, until the middle of June) I will be choppy and unpredictable with updates, and for that I am sorry. _

_Warning the second: if you expected a lot of SuFin because the story's from Finland(/Tino)'s perspective, you're (at least partially) sadly mistaken. Hopefully, for those people, the story will be interesting enough to stick around…_

_Anyway, thanks for reading the first chapter! Send a review if you've got the time – I need constructive criticism, so you in return get better Yaoi moments in the future!_


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